


Lolita

by honynut



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Based on Lolita, Bottom Peter Parker, Dark, F/M, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, I’ll add more tags later, Lolita AU, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Top Tony Stark, Virgin Peter Parker, peter is 16, tony and May are in their late 30s early 40s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-07-10 16:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19908367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honynut/pseuds/honynut
Summary: Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.He was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing five feet ten in one sock. He was Lola in slacks. He was Peter at school. He was Peter Parker on the dotted line. But in my arms He was always Lolita.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on my Wattpad as well, honynut

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.

He was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing five feet ten in one sock. He was Lola in slacks. He was Peter at school. He was Peter Parker on the dotted line. But in my arms He was always Lolita.

—

It was an awfully hot summer day when I arrived at the Parkers home. I was originally planned to stay with the Barton's, but their home had, unfortunately, burned down. It's tragic, really. I do feel for them. 

Mrs. Parker, a quite wealthy widow, offered me a room in her home for cheap rent. She was very polite, offering out of pure generosity. Though I'm not planning to, I came. purely out of politeness or to just get her off my back about it. 

The taxi driver presses hard on the brakes as a dog runs into the street. I'm flung forward, cursing under my breath. As soon as I step out that damned dog starts barking and nipping at my pant leg. I kick at the mutt, shooing it away. 

Walking to the door, I take in my surroundings. It's a nice neighborhood. The house across the street has a beautiful tulip garden and the house on the left is a nice shade of pale yellow. There's a white fence around Mrs. Parker's home. There are also small shrubs against the house and along the fence in front of the street. Obviously trimmed to look neat. 

The walkway leading to the house is cemented. Green, healthy grass on either side. The house is a dull white with green shutters on the windows. Blinds and curtains drawn to shield the outside world away from the occupants of the house. 

When I get to the door I knock and wait patiently, straightening out my suit jacket to look more presentable. I hear noise from the other side of the door but no one comes to open it. I knock once more, maybe I didn't knock loud enough the first time.

The knob turns and the door is pulled open by a middle aged woman. She's wearing a pale pink blouse with embroidered flowers scattered all over, taking up most of the space. The blouse has been unbuttoned at the top to expose the women's breasts and tucked into her tan high rise pants. She also has the most obnoxious red lipstick painted on her thin lips. 

"Hello, I'm May Parker. You must be Mr. Stark." She smiles and I notice the lipstick in her teeth. "Please, call me Tony." I force a smile. "Oh, do come in." Mrs. Parker says as she opens the door for me. I step through, looking around her home. It's not bad, really it's quite cozy. As I turn back to Mrs. Parker I see her kick a pair of shoes out of the way. She huffs and curses under her breath, probably hoping I don't notice. 

"So, your a writer?" Mrs. Parker asks walking up the stairs a few steps but stops and looks down at me. "Ah, yes." I answer in short hoping she doesn't ask more. "Well, If you would follow me," she paused to start walking up the stairs, "I'll show you your office." She giggled a little. Ugh the cow. 

I follow her up the staircase. She motions to the space we are in and says, "upstairs." She walks a bit and points to two doors side by side. "I and lo have our room over there," Mrs. Parker moves to open a curtain for a small window next to a desk. "And this, is your room." 

I look around the room. It's quite nice, not too small. Mrs. Parker keeps walking and points to a small restroom. "Bathroom, bit of a mess." She walks past. I look in and yes, it's messy. This was a bad idea. I need to leave. 

Mrs. Parker walks back down the stairs and through the entryway. I try my best to keep up. "And this," She motions to the room. "Is the kitchen." I'm not really paying attention anymore. I pull out a timetable. "If you want anything, just ask. Food or drink— what's that?" 

I look up at her. "It's a timetable, I'm afraid I'll have to go all the way back to New York." I frown to set the mood, just incase I'm a bad actor with my words. She frowns as well, looking down to the floor and then looking back up at me. She sighs, " You're not to impressed, huh?" 

I shake my head. "No, no—" she cuts me off "I know this is not a beat household but I do believe you will be very comfortable here." She walks over to me as I try to say that I must be going. "Now you can't say no until you see the piazza." She grabs my upper arm, gently, and pushes me to the door. 

We walk out onto the back porch. The back yard is just a green as the front. There's more space back here though. "It's a lot of work to keep up, but it's my life's work." She smiles and walks on. 

I walk with her until I spot him. He's laying on his stomach, back arched beautifully. Feet in the air, one twirling slightly in the light sprinkle of water coming from a sprinkler. Holding himself up on his elbows and looking through a magazine, head tilted softly to the left. 

I am speechless. I feel my brain malfunction as I look at his wet shirt clinging to his lean body, white, almost see through. The way his thin, blue, high cut, silky shorts stick to his amazingly sculpted ass. I can almost make out his underwear. 

I am still just standing, starring at the beautiful boy when Mrs. Parker comes back to my side. "That's my lo." She says simply. "And these," She points to some flowers. "Are my lilies." She smiles, thinking I care about the damn flowers. 

Lo. I'm still starring. He looks up at me and smiles. I feel myself loosing my balance. I feel tipsy. I feel the heat raising in my cheeks. He looks away, back to his magazine. I let out the breathe I didn't realize I was holding. 

"Lily is a pretty name." The cow is still talking about the fucking flowers? "Don't you think?" She looks at me, smiling. "Yes. Beautiful." I say, not taking my eyes off him. I turn to walk quickly to her side. 

"How much did you say the room was?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A normal man, given a group photograph of schoolboys—  
> and asked to point out the loveliest one—  
> will not necessarily choose the nymphet among them.  
> You have to be an artist.  
> A madman, full of shame and melancholy, and despair—  
> in order to recognize the little deadly demon among the others.  
> He stands... unrecognized by them—  
> unconscious herself of his fantastic power.

Im sitting at my desk, only a simple, white tank top on with sweatpants. Looking out the window, I see him with his friend, Mj, I think it was. She pretty, sure, but she's nothing compared to my Lolita. 

They are playing tennis in the front yard. Well, not really playing tennis. They're just messing with the rackets. I wonder if they actually know how to play. 

I have the window drawn up a little to heard their conversation. Mj goes out the front gate, "see you later alligator." She says. "After while crocodile!" Peter returns. Mj is leaning over the fence now. "Real soon, Daniel Boone!" They giggle together as peter replies with, "get fucked, Daffy Duck!" 

They laughs together as Mj finally walks away to her home, next door. Peter plays around in the yard for awhile more. Walking around, waving his tennis racket in the air. 

—

It's quite late. Around 11:00 pm. I'm typing away at my typewriter. I lean back and stretch. Yawning and turning around to a record player Mrs. Parker has lent me. "Stormy Weather" by Lena Horne plays softly as I turn back around. 

The floor creaks and I look up. There he is. His long smooth legs, arms dangling on each side. Head tilted against the door frame. He's in silky looking pjs. A soft, pale, blue color that complemented his pale skin.

He sighs and leans more into the door frame. "You woke me up." Lo pouts. "Sorry." I say, sincerely and quickly turn the music off. He sighs again and wonders off down stairs. After peter is out of sight, I follow him down the stairs. 

I go to the kitchen and, of course, there he is. On the floor in front of the refrigerator, eating various snacks. Some cherries, a spoon of ice cream, another cherry, and then he grabs a carton of raspberries. He puts the raspberries on the tips of his fingers. 

This is the part where I think, he knows exactly what he's doing to me. He knows how sinfully beautiful he looks. Peter, one by one, sucks the raspberries off his fingers. Licking and sucking on them as he goes. 

I smile and walk away, back up stairs, back to my room. A few minutes go by and I hear light foot steps go into the bathroom. I hear the sink turn on and then back off. I close my eyes and drift off, thinking of those fingers. That mouth. 

The next morning I'm sitting at my desk, listening to lo brush his teeth. "Peter, did you make your bed?" The cow screams through the house. Peter walks out of the bathroom and into his room. "No, I have not make my bed." He says in return. Mrs. Parker comes around the corner and walks into peters room. 

I can see right into his room, the door right in front of mine. Peter in laying on his unmade bed, looking up at his mother. Mrs. Parker crosses her arms. "I told you to make your bed. Didn't I?" "No, you asked if I made my bed." Peter fires back at her, mockingly. 

Mrs. Parker walks away, out the door and back into her vile cave. "Make your bed." She says on her way out. "Now!" She screams, slamming her door. 

Oh how I wish of some kinda of disaster here today. Wish for it to wipe out that fat cow of a mother. A disaster to wipe out everything, everyone. Everyone except for me and my lo. We could be alone, together. Forever, I'll hold him in my arms. My Lolita. 

When I look up from my journal, I see him. Peter is standing in my doorway again. A simple shortsleeved, light blue button up tucked into a pair of short tan shorts. 

He chews loudly on a piece of gum. Peter walks behind the, brown leather, chair in front of my desk and leans over in. When he stops and gets up he pushes it slightly closer to my desk. He rounds it, dragging his hand across the leather. 

My eyes never leave him. When he finally sits down, he leans back and stretches out. His arms on the armrests. " I'm sleepy today." He mumbles. "Me too." I say, quickly looking down at his legs and back up. "Have you been having trouble sleeping?" He asks and spreads his legs a little, lifting one on the chair. 

"You couldn't imagine." I spend my nights thinking of Lolita. What could be. What we could have. What we already have. 

Peter gets up and rounds my desk. Coming to stand beside me. The chewing is now in my ear. He takes the gum out, playing with it in his hands, and leans over my desk, looking at my notes. I sit back in my chair and peter puts his elbows of the table. 

Peter then sits in my lap and I have to hold my breath as I suppress a groan. Peter slams his gum onto my notes and turns to me. "Am I getting a zit?"   
I blink a couple times. "What?" "Do you see a pimple on my chin." He repeats his question. This time he looks up and leans his head back a little. 

I look at him. "You look absolutely perfect to me." I say with a small smile. He smiles at me and laughs a little. I laugh as well. My god, his laugh is so cute. 

I lean forward, still laughing slightly, and lay my head on his shoulder. I can smell his shampoo and body wash. He smells as good as he looks. The that damn witch had to ruin it. 

"Humbert?" She yells from down the hall. I can hear her obnoxious heels tapping the hardwood floor. Peter jumps up and runs to his room and I hurry to get his gum off my notebook. "Humbert, is he keeping you up?" I throw the gum away as soon as she walks into my room. "What?" I pause for a moment. "No, no he's not." I smile sweetly at her.

Later that day, The phone rings and Mrs. Parker rushes to answer it. Lo is walking through the house. "Has anyone seen my another shoe?" He walks up the stairs, to his room, and then back downstairs. 

I hear Mrs. Parker end the call. I go down the stairs, passing my lo on the way to the back patio. I sit on the wooden porch swing. I put my arm on the armrest and hold onto the metal chain that arches the swing to the porch roof. 

I'm sitting alone for a little less than 10 minutes before Mrs. Parker comes to sit next to me with two glasses of lemonade. She hands me one and continues to talk about random bullshit I couldn't care less about. 

Not long after Mrs. Parker starts to Babble about the lilies, my sweet lo come to join us. He squeezes his way between me and the wicked witch. I look at him, thankfully. 

Peter kicks his feet and Mrs. Parker tells him to be still, but he doesn't listen. "I could be a dancer." Peter looks up at me. "I have a natural grace." He smiles with his teeth. "I'd like to see you dance sometime." Mrs. Parker sucks her fat nose in our conversation. "Every kid wants to be a dancer, don't they?" She pauses to take a sip of her drink. "I know I did." She looks off into the yard. "But I was, a little on the bigger side. Plump?" 

She looks over at me. "Is that the right word?" I look over at her and then out to the yard. "Yes." I say simply. I can see out of the corner of my eye how she goes red. With angry or embarrassment, or maybe both. She stands and says, "I'll go get more lemonade." I hand her my glass and she disappears into the house. 

Peter scoots closer to me, almost in my lap. He leans into my face, "make her take us to the lake." I look back at him, confused. "Why me?" "She's got a thing for you—" he pauses for a moment and lowers his voice to a whisper. "She'll do anything you say."

"Whisper, whisper." Mrs. Parker hands me another glass of lemonade and sits back down where she was. She observes how close peter is to me. "What are you too getting so cozy for?" She asks, almost glaring at peter. 

"Did— did I ever tell you guys that I was once a—" I paused, stuttering over my words. "I was once a cook for the North Pole." Peter turns to me, smiling. "A cook?" He tilts his head in question. "Well not really, I helped in the kitchen." 

"It was more a of weather expedition." A stated and then added, "I shot a polar bear." Mrs. Parker gasped. "No!" I looked over peters shoulder at her. "Well I didn't actually hit it. I shot near it. Mostly to scare it off." 

I moved my left arm to rest on the back of the swing and Peter poked at my side. "Why would you shoot a polar bear? That's a crappy thing to do." I looked back down at peter. "I caught it—" I paused to let out a little laugh. "I caught it with its head in the ice cream mixer." 

Peter laughed and kicked his legs. Mrs. Parker hit him gently on the back of his head and said sternly, "stop fidgeting!" She sounded jealous of all the attention she wasn't getting and would never get from me. 

"Now we all think that lo should go to bed." She looked at peter. "Lo." Peter looked back at her with a sour face. "Who's 'we' pale face?" He asked. I have to hold back a laugh at 'pale face'.

Mrs. Parker was about to argue back when the phone rang from inside the house. “It’s for me!” Peter yelled as he got up fast, shaking the swing, and ran inside. 

Mrs. Parker scoots down the swing next to me. “I’m sorry about his manners.” I wasn’t paying much attention to her. I listened closely as peter said, “no, I’m sorry she’s busy.” Into the phone. 

Music starts playing loudly in the house, the back door still open to let some air in. Mrs. Parker groaned and huffed, like a real cow. “Oh, what now?” She exclaimed. 

“Look I choreographed my own dance!” Peter yells. “Peter Parker! Turn that damn music down!” Mrs. Parker yells back. Peter giggles and stomps around. I start push the swing so it swings from left to right instead of front to back. When the swing moves in front of the door way I look in at peter. He’s dancing and stomping around the living room. 

There’s really not much to the dance but it’s graceful and beautiful. They way his long, pale legs move in front each other and pull him around in a circle. “He’s a pest.” Mrs. Parker growls. The swing moves in front of the door again and he’s gone. The music is still blaring but there’s no trace of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I need you, the reader, to imagine us, for we don’t exist if you don’t.   
> —Vladimir Nabokov

"I won't go!"

Peter yelled from his room upstairs. I could practically hear the frustrated tears wailing up in his eyes as Mrs. Parker and him bickered back and forth. 

"I don't care! I want all of these name tags sewn on your clothes by tomorrow, no exceptions!" I'm sat at my desk and I can see into peters room as they fight. My poor lo, that witch is forcing him away to a camp. 

"For spoiled little brats." I remember when Mrs. Parker first told me she was sending my lo off. The absolute disgust in her eyes for my precious boy was terrifying. 

I wish I could take peter with me across the country, to California maybe, no no that's too predictable. We'd go to New York. Peter always talked about how he'd love to be in films or plays. We could go to Vegas, get married and then move far far away from everyone. Just me and my lo, alone and together forever. 

"I don't want to go!" Peter yells, bringing me back to reality. "I don't believe I asked for your opinion." Mrs. Parker strikes back at him. " you can't make me go old witch!" 

Mrs. Parker scoffs. "Shut your mouth and finish packing." The wicked creature turns and smiles at me on her way out of the princes cell. The prince waiting for a knight to save him.

"You're leaving tomorrow, wether you're fully packed or not." Mrs. Parker yelled you the stairs. Peter looks up at me from his room. Pouting and mouths 'save me' with those pretty pink lips of his. 

—

"I asked you to put your suitcases in the car a hour ago! Come on, let's go!" Mrs. Parker blabbers on and on about how slow the child is being. How she will be relieved once the prince has finally been locked away in a hell called summer camp. 

I watch them from my office. They stand by the car, arguing whilst they put lo's bags away. Mrs. Parker goes to the drivers side, slides in and starts the car. 

Peter looks around at the house like he's trying to map out every inch of the home to picture later in his mind. When he looks up at me through the window, he smiles. Those adorable dimples showing on rosy cheeks. 

Before I know it he's taking off on those long, beautiful legs Into the house. I step back and face the door. I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants. 

It's like the whole world stops spinning. Like time has stopped as he runs and jumps into my arms. I hug him tight. Peter wraps his legs around my waist. 

Peter looks me in the eyes, smiles and plants his soft, cherry red lips on mine. It's sloppy, of course, but I kiss back with the same passion. I can tell just how inexperienced peter is as he licks my lips. 

I hug him tight one last time as he puts his feet back on the ground. Without a word spoken he takes off again, down the stairs and out the door. I rush to the window to watch him jump in the car. 

There's a little angry nagging from Mrs. Parker as they speed off, down the road. Out of sight but never out of mind. 

I step back from the window, putting two fingers to my lips. I breathe out a shaky breath. The maid walks in, I forget her name. She hands me a letter. "From Mrs. Parker." I look at her in confusion, but she leaves without another word.

I look at the envelope in my hand, turning in over and back. I open it carefully, taking the paper out. I skim it and see a smudged lip print were Mrs Parker had 'sealed the deal' with her lips. It was endearing but mostly pathetic. 

I sit at my desk and read; 

Dear my sweet Tony,

I'm sweet on you, Tones. I'm a lonely, passionate woman and I'm in love with you.  
Now you know. Please destroy this letter and leave. I'll be back around dinner time and I want you gone. 

You see, tones, if I found you at home when I return,  
the fact that you stayed would mean only one thing...  
that you want me as much as I do you...  
as a lifelong partner.  
And that you are ready to link up your life with mine forever and ever...  
and be a father to my little boy.

Love,  
May 

Two weeks later we were married in a quick ceremony. Mrs. Parker made sure that peter was not there. Now, you see, I had no feels toward Mrs. Parker. Besides the disgust and anger for they way she treated my dear lo. 

If I didn’t marry Mrs. Parker I would have to leave her home, leave peter. We all know that’s not how the love story ends. We need a villain, a kink in the road that keeps me away from my love. An antagonist that I will defeat and save my Lolita from. 

Now here I am, sat at my desk with a cow in lap, petting me like a dog. Her hands are in my hair, massaging. Her sharp, red, fingernails are clawing at my scalp. 

Mrs. Parker—or should I say Mrs. Stark? No. No, that’s awful. Mrs. Parker hums in my ear, “this is bliss. Heaven on earth.” She looks at my, a smile on her lips, “right tones?” 

I smile back at her and hum my reply. Looking back down to my desk, notes scribbled on papers. Nothing in particular, old ideas. “Are you working on your book?” She pries. “Yes.” I answer simply. 

Mrs. Parker looks around the room, around my desk. She tries to open the top drawer. It’s locked. “Secret drawer?” She pauses, then continues when I don’t answer. “What’s in it?” I look into her eyes, put on my best ‘I’m so in love with you face’ and say, “locked up love letters.” With a small smile on my face. 

Her smile widens, “where’s the key?” “Hidden.” I reply with no emotion. She sighs and gets off my lap. “Well, I’ve got a few errands to run. Need anything?” I stand up and walk over to her, kiss her on the cheek and hug her tight. “No my dear, I’ve got everything I need right here.” 

Mrs. Parker blushes deeply, and leans her head on my shoulder. “Me too, my love.” I feel like gagging, but I just close my eyes and pretend that’s it’s my lo that I’m hugging to tight. My lo that is telling me he loves me. Peter, whom I’m married so happily to.


	4. Chapter 4

During the six weeks we were married I was successful in avoiding my husbandly duties. Through this time in July, I offered Mrs. Par—May, sleeping pills. She took them, gratefully. Popping them easily, carefree. She was a great taker of pills, as some would say. 

The radio hummed low with a tune that was sweet on the ears, at a soft volume. “I’m in the mood for love.” The woman sang her love for a mystery man. It was sick, here he was thinking about holding Peter, his lo, to sway slowly to a lovely song with his wife’s son as he took a few pills to knock her out. Make her dead to the world. He wishes. May smiled sweetly at Tony as he handed her a glass of water and then two small, white pills. 

The last dose I tried knocked her out for only four hours. That was not enough to guarantee me a night undisturbed. That night I was working late. When I eventually made it to bed May seemed to be out cold. I waved a hand in front of her face, pushed on the bed lightly—then harder. Still no movement from the sleeping cow. Grabbing the lap that was sitting on my nightstand, I waved it in her face. 

No movement. Laying down, getting under the duvet, and closing my eyes after a long day of acting was a nice feeling of relaxation. That was until May turned over, wrapping a leg over my waist and climbing her way onto my body. 

“Finally,” May said, leaning into me and taking my lips in a rough kiss. Damnit. Damn her to hell. I kissed back, Closing my eyes. I thought of peter. His soft skin, long legs straddling my hips—May ground herself down onto me.

She kissed her way down my neck, unbuttoned my nightshirt and kissed sloppily down my chest. I kept my eyes closed as May hooked her crooked fingers around the waistband of my pants, pulling at them. I tried to keep my body glued to the bed so she could get them off my hips, but she succeeded and got them down my legs.

The next morning Tony woke early to make an appointment with a doctor for a stronger sleeping pill. He'd left around 10:00 pm, his appointment being around 10:30. “so, Doctor Banner, what would you give me if, hypothetically,” Tony tried to put emphasis on the word, “I wanted to knock out a cow.” he said. Doctor Banner looked over him, with a smirk on his face. 

Banner reached into a drawer of his desk, pulling out a small white bottle. “These are new, ill let you try them.” he hands them over to Tony. “my wife takes them and I don’t hear a peep out of her all night,” he states, smiling a knowing smile. Tony looked over the bottle, Sounds perfect.” Tony offered a bright smile back to him. they stood together, banner walking Tony to the door. “thank you, Doctor Banner, I really appreciate it.” “Don’t mention it.” 

“I’m home.” walking through the house he heard nothing. No one greeting him like normal. Tony could feel that something wasn’t right. the atmosphere felt a bit off. Walking through the seemingly empty home, Tony finally saw May. She was sitting at a small desk in their living room, her back facing him. She seemed to be hunched over the desk, a cigarette lit between her first and middle finger. 

Tony walked closer, going to put in an effort and surprise the woman, but she turned around abruptly when she heard the floors creak beneath his weight. She was visibly upset. Tear stained cheeks, red puffy eyes, and nose. “The Parker women?” She says. Shit. Tony thinks to himself, face dropping. May has new, fresh tears rolling down her face now. “The fat cow?” She turns and grabs a few papers off the desk. Which Tony recognizes as his notes, his personal journal entries from the past few months that he’s been staying with the Parker family. 

“No. No, it’s not what you think.” Tony tries, walking closer. May stands, looks at the pages once more, reading, “The obnoxious mama? The annoying bitch?” She throws the papers at him, walking back to her desk and retrieving a letter she had written. May put the letter in an envelope and sealed it in a hurry. “May, please. You don’t understand—“ “what don’t I understand Tony.” She yells. “You’re a sick man.” 

Tony steps closer, trying to calm May down. “Touch me and I’ll scream.” May steps back. Tony puts his hand up in understanding. “Look, this—it’s all a misunderstanding. You and lo—Peter. Those pages are not about you.” Tony was stumbling, trying to make an excuse. A reason for the pages. 

“I used yours and Peter's names out of convenience. The pages, they are not about you.” Tony states, his face pleading for May to believe him. “No, you are sick. I want you out. Out of my life. Out of this house.” She walked closer and closer to Tony, causing him to back up. “You are never going to see Peter ever again. I mean it.” Tony heart sunk. No, she can’t take him away from him. “How about,” Tony said softly. 

He cleared his throat, trying to swallow his worry. “How about I make us a drink and we can sit down and talk about this,” Tony suggested. “No, I want you out by the time I’m back from the damn mailbox,” May said. She turned back to the desk, finishing up the letter. Tony walked quickly to the Alcohol cabinet, taking out a strong scotch and two glasses. “It will all be okay, May. I’m making us a drink and we’ll talk about this.” Tony rushed through the house, to the kitchen, grabbing ice. 

The phone rang, loudly. “I’ve got it May,” Tony announced, walking to the phone, drinks in hand. “Hello?” He answered. He paused for the man on the other end to speak. “That’s not possible she’s here, I just spoke to her,” Tony stated. He pulled the phone away from his ear, saying loudly so that May could hear. “May, dear. There’s a man on the phone that says that you’ve died.” When he doesn’t get a response, he leaves the phone and walks to the room May was previously in. There was no sight of her, besides the pages on the floor and the desk was a mess. 

Tony speed-walked out the front door. There were people, adults, kids, policemen—everyone was crowded around a car. Tony walks over to the crowd. He overhears a man, the owner of the car, speaking to a policeman. “She came out of nowhere. I swear, it was an accident.” The policeman nodded. Tony looks down, next to the car there’s a body. It’s covered with a newspaper, but he knows who it is. The policeman looks over to him, down to the body and then back to him. “Are you Mr. Stark?” Tony doesn’t look away from the body. “Yea—yes I am.” 

The policeman crouches down, pulls the newspaper back to reveal May's face. “I’m sorry.” The policeman stated. May had been hit. She ran from the house, in rage, upset. Running across the road to her mailbox without paying attention to the oncoming car.


End file.
